


Happiness is a Sly Smirk (Natural and Greek remix)

by wildestranger



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-29
Updated: 2007-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/pseuds/wildestranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Would you like to see ancient Greece, Ianto? Witness the laws of hospitality firsthand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness is a Sly Smirk (Natural and Greek remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sly Ianto](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1467) by Misslucyjane. 



> Thanks to [](http://shaggydogstail.livejournal.com/profile)[**shaggydogstail**](http://shaggydogstail.livejournal.com/) for her endless cheering and beta duty, and to [](http://sionnain.livejournal.com/profile)[**sionnain**](http://sionnain.livejournal.com/) for answering my undoubtedly strange questions about Ancient Greece.

**And When I Woke Up Tonight; or, the blowjob and the argument**

Ianto licked his lips and watched as Jack grinned, spreading his legs further. Just wide enough for Ianto to slide between them, to place his hands on Jack's thighs, and bend his head to swallow Jack's cock. He wouldn't stay like this, but it's important, Ianto has found, to start with a bit of overwhelming sensation. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked once, twice. Jack's cock pushed at the back of his throat and Ianto made an nngh-noise, then felt it reverberate in the body beneath him, in Jack's panting mouth and the flexing muscles of his throat.

Ianto closed his eyes and concentrated on his tongue, rubbing the underside of Jack's cock, teasing the slit with threatened penetration while Jack moaned and sweated and called him evil. After a while he went back to long, deep sucks and brought his hands to it, spreading the cheeks of Jack's arse but not quite touching his hole. He kept sucking when Jack came with an unabashed groan, and although his mouth grew gentle, he didn't stop until Jack pulled him up.

"Hey. Hey. Come here."

Ianto allowed himself to be kissed and petted, enjoying the feel of Jack's smiling mouth against his cheek. But when a questing hand moved towards his cock, he pulled away.

"No, it's fine. We don't have the time, anyway, we'll be arriving at Athens in thirty minutes."

"That can wait. I'm sure the Doctor would understand."

Despite the deft fingers stroking his thigh and the lips tugging at his earlobe, Ianto held his ground and stood up. He was looking for his clothes (thrown around the room, again, regardless of how many times he'd told Jack about the proper handling of expensive suits) and didn't face Jack as he continued.

"I'm sure he would, but we need to get ready. I want to have a bit of a breakfast before we go, and there's still our clothes to pick. Can't wear a suit to visit ancient Greece, can you. Or a military overcoat."

It wasn't quite babbling but Ianto knew that it was uncharacteristic of him to offer this much information. He paused, straightened his spine, and continued to button up his trousers. He didn't turn around until he was fully dressed.

Jack hadn't moved. His arms were crossed over his chest and the sheets, thrown over him when Ianto left the bed, were still covering his thighs.

"You're not hard."

Ianto opened his mouth, swallowed, and said: "I was thinking about our destination. It's not all naked boys and wrestling, you know."

Jack lifted his chin slightly.

"I know. The Doctor told me why we're going."

Ianto froze. It took him a few moments to remember that Jack was still watching him, taking in every twitch and startled breath. Any sign of knowing guilt.

He wondered what the Doctor had said about their conversation.

 _"I know what you're doing."_

"Sir?"

"Making yourself indispensable. Though I do appreciate your efforts in the domestic department. The TARDIS has never been so tidy. But it's the other things you're doing that worry me."

"What do you mean?"

"You think Jack needs a playmate, so you do whatever he asks of you. You think I need an intellectual equal--"

"Jack's not stupid, Doctor."

"No, but he finds all this very dull. While you hang on every word."

"I do find it interesting. What worries you about it?"

"You spend so much time pleasing us I feel I've yet to actually meet you."

"You sound as if you think I'm planning a mutiny."

"Oh, I know you're not. But I do wonder . . What is it that you want, Ianto Jones?"

"I . . . I just want to be with Jack, Doctor."

"Hm…Would you like to see ancient Greece, Ianto? Witness the laws of hospitality firsthand?"

Suspicion could be more insidious than downright accusation. And the question of how much Jack trusted him, or rather, to what extent he didn't, had never been resolved to his satisfaction. Or in his favour.

Ianto didn't look away as Jack got up, wrapped the sheet around himself like a toga, and with a final frown, walked out.

Well, on with the show.

 **If You Wear That Velvet Dress; or, the closet and the chiton**

The cloakroom was silent when Ianto arrived. The Doctor turned to look at him and nodded, while Jack continued to go through the clothes rack. Ianto cleared his throat.

"Found anything yet?"

The Doctor shrugged, his eyes still alert on Ianto

"Nah. Can't decide on the clothes. Tunic or toga? Chiton or himation? Endless possibilities, really. And we don't wanna get it wrong, you know. I once wore the wrong kind of pinafore to a party. Turns out it had to be tied up in the front, not back, and there were these sashes that were really slippery…anyway, what do you think, Ianto?"

"Have you actually got all of those?"

A foolish question, really, but with the TARDIS one never knew. And one always wanted to.

"You've really been reading up on this," said Jack, quiet.

"Our Ianto has a degree in Classics, don't you know. First class from Jesus College, Oxford."

"Really? Why didn't I know that?"

"Classified by Torchwood One, I should imagine. Anyway, Ianto, any thoughts?"

"Um, those should both be fine, actually. Depends on how old you want to look, what social class and such."

"I see. What would you recommend?"

"For you? The himation, perhaps. It would hide your skinny calves."

"Cheeky boy!"

"And Jack would like the exomis. You'll get to show off your chest and hide your, er, privates."

"Have to get an extra long one, then."

"Yes, Jack, we know you have a massive cock. We are very happy for you. Please make sure you hide it from the public, though."

Jack was almost smiling now, and Ianto found he could breathe more easily. Then again, it was never hard to produce momentary amusement.

"As for me, I think the chiton. Eminently well-covering and respectable."

"And easy to lift off."

"And easy to lift off. As are all these clothes."

"I love ancient Greece."

"Yes, sir."

In the end, they decided on chitons for the lot of them, although the Doctor insisted on taking a himation as well (apparently he got chilly easily, although Ianto figured he was still bit miffed by the calves comment).

 **I Fall For This Season Every Time; or, the triumphant arrival**

 _In which the Doctor extrapolated at length about when they were supposed to arrive ("If we'd come a few decades earlier we could have witnessed the first performance of _The Bacchae_!"), and when they actually did ("What do you mean Plato isn't here, where on earth has he got to! Oh, Sicily, right, I see, well, more fool him! Hmmph!". The Doctor decided to visit the agora instead in order to taunt the sophists…_

"Try not to make them cry this time."

"That was just the once! And it's not my fault if they can't handle the logical conclusions of their own premises!"

 _…while Jack and Ianto traced their way to the Gymnasion, where mature philosophers and young athletes mingled happily in pursuit of excellence. It shall be left to the reader to decide which of the two our heroes were most anxious to meet._

 **Pale Pubescent Beasts; or, the gymnasion**

"You know, they considered small penises to be particularly beautiful."

"What? That can't be right."

"Oh yes. Large penises were the mark of a satyr, and no, that's not a good thing, the mark of uncontrollable libido. So don't ogle all the naked boys. Or speak to them. Or touch them."

"You never let me have any fun."

"Jack."

"Ianto."

"Stay away from the naked boys. They're too young for you, anyway."

"Not in fourth century BC Athens, they're not."

Ianto sighed. Jack smirked. They'd been having this conversation for the past hour.

"Why did we have to park the TARDIS on the other side of the city? Close to the Gymnasium would have been nicer. The Doctor could have breathed the same air as Plato, and all."

"Perhaps he feared putting you in close proximity with the naked boys."

"Ianto, if I fear one more word from you about the…."

"Oh, look!"

There they were, glistening in the sunlight.

"Naked boys. Running."

"Oh my."

"Oh yeah."

"Jack, close your mouth. You're drooling on your chiton."

"The TARDIS has sonic washing machines."

Ianto managed to pull Jack towards the entrance, away from the running boys (he suspected Jack's reluctance was mostly a show put on for his benefit, and scolded accordingly). Once inside, they were approached by one of the gymnastae, who took one look at Ianto's recently and religiously shaved cheeks and smiled toothlessly.

He wasn't sure what happened next. Somehow, in the context of a conversation about the noble tradition of unclothed wrestling and the virtuous thoughts one might gleam from observing said wrestling, Ianto had been volunteered to participate in a friendly match with the current champion. He was fairly sure he hadn't mentioned his experience of Greco-Roman wrestling at university to Jack, so it was either yet another piece of information that the Doctor had imprudently shared (and looking at the hairy beast of a man both Jack and the gymnasteis were referring to, oh how imprudent) or an unfortuitous yet wholly characteristic lack of foresight and consideration on Jack's part.

As the conversation seemed not to require his participation – as any and all protests he had made had been summarily ignored – Ianto chose to go sulk by the pool instead of standing around while Jack and the gymnasteis gave him lecherous looks. The swimming pool was a deep indentation on the ground filled with water and presently, naked boys, and Ianto found the splashing sounds and the shine of the water soothing. He wasn't, regardless of Jack's later slander, ogling the various limbs flailing around in the water.

Perhaps too soothing, as he woke up to Jack poking his side with a toe, his mouth stretched in unholy glee and unnaturally white teeth glinting in the sun.

"It's all set up. We just got to get you changed and oiled, and then everything's ready. I've let the Doctor know, and he might be able to make it to your big match."

"By changed I presume you mean undressed?"

Jack's grin widened.

"And by oiled…do I even want to know?"

"Apparently they have these people whose job it is to rub oil over the athletes. They offered their services but I told them I'd help you out."

"I see."

The ground was really rather comfortable. For a moment Ianto considered remaining there, wondering what Jack would do if he simply refused to get up. Perhaps he could be distracted by the swimming boys?

But Jack's attention was firmly on Ianto. He was still smiling, but with less lascivious joy than fierce contemplation, and being the recipient of such looks always made Ianto uncomfortable. Sighing theatrically (for nothing could divert Jack as quickly as a spot of melodrama), he sat up and offered his hand for Jack to pull. Predictably, he was pulled with slightly more force than necessary, and consequently ended up in slightly closer proximity to Jack than would have been required. Equally predictably, Jack didn't let go.

"Shall we go get you ready and oiled, then?"

 **The Air Gets Clammy And We Hold Each Other's Breath; or, the oiling**

Ianto was naked and sweating. The white walls of the room did little to abate the persistent heat outside, and Jack's hands on his body didn't help. The oil was almost cool, at least to begin with, but the deft movement of Jack's fingertips, searching out rough patches of skin, sensitive places, turned the oil into something less than soothing.

He'd had two fingers inside him and Jack's cock rubbing between his thighs long before any attention was paid to his cock.

"See, I did some research as well."

"So I see. Very commendable, sir."

"What did we say about calling me sir during sex?"

"That you are very kinky and kind of like it?"

"Ianto."

"Yes, sir. Jack. Sorry."

"Good boy."

Jack bit his neck and made him come, eyes closed and panting, and far too messy.

They would have to apply the oil again.

 **Ready On Your Belly If You Wanna Have Fun; or, the naked wrestling**

His adversary was slightly older than most of the men gathered around the sand. A black beard and a broad face, with scars from war rather than competition on his body. Not a boy, then, but a man, with an appreciative grin for Ianto.

Jack seemed to appreciate them both, but his friendliest grin was reserved to a youth of about seventeen, who was standing a few feet away from him. A pale lad, leaning indolently against one of the columns, and not quite looking at Jack from beneath his lashes.

Right. One of those.

Then Ianto stopped paying attention to Jack's amorous advances because the fight had began, and there were hands on his body, hard and slippery hands, trying to pin him down. Hairy legs sliding between his thighs, trying to make him twist and turn and fall. And rough flesh beneath his fingers, eluding his grasp, moving too quickly for him to catch.

The first time the man's hands brushed against his cock Ianto flinched a little, and ignored it. The second time he decided it was an attempt at distraction, and should be ignored all the more. The third time, the man plastered against his back with one hand holding Ianto's wrists against his groin and the other one sliding between Ianto's buttocks, he realised what was happening. And kicked the man squarely in the balls.

"What the fuck?"

An explosion of shouting, watchers erupting into the ring and arguing at the top of their voices. Ianto's opponent was grabbing the shoulder of the boy Jack had been flirting with, and as Ianto watched, the boy's eyes filled with tears and he flung himself at the man.

"Ianto!"

At Jack's voice, Ianto turned around and punched him in the face.

"What the hell…Ianto? I realise that you're angry but that's no reason to…"

"When your flirting was the cause of what happened? Yes, there is. We told you, _repeatedly_ , not to let your hands wander. That looking was okay as long as you didn't touch, because that would be an insult. That involving yourself in such entanglements would result in trouble and violence and yet another intergalactic incident, and for fuck's sake can't you control yourself? Or at least not involve me in it when you fuck up, so they won't feel the need to insult me in turn? Jesus."

Jack glared at him, mouth strangely rigid, his chin slightly lifted. There was a red mark on his cheek, and no sign of apology on his face.

Ianto turned around, and walked to one of the benches surrounding the area. He was breathing hard, as much from battle-fuelled adrenaline as rage. Soon the oil and sand would dry on his body and become unbearably itchy, and he'd have to get a strigil to scrape it all off. And he was still naked. Things always happened when he was naked. Especially when Jack was around.

His adversary was talking quietly to one of the guardians, one hand digging into a pouch around his waist and the other wrapped tightly around the boy's wrist. They were looking at Ianto, and not in a friendly manner. But just as Ianto had decided to throw Jack to the wolves first and hopefully escape in the foray (he's started to compose an elegant speech, in iambic hexameter, on responsibility and hospitality, and why the obvious offender should be lynched first), when an obnoxiously cheerful voice rang loudly over the chatter.

"Did I miss anything?"

And of course, the Doctor would arrive just in time to keep him from getting Jack killed.

 **And Then We Kissed And Fell Unconscious; or, back at the tavern**

 _Where Jack continued to sulk, albeit in a quiet and only mildly pouty fashion, while Ianto gave the Doctor a detailed account of the day's adventures, complete with commentary and occasional interpretative hand movements. The Doctor made several tutting noises, and glared sorrowfully at Jack. They all drank much too much wine, Ianto daring Jack to drink it undiluted by water, as was the custom, after which the Doctor turned his disapproving frown on Ianto. They ended up sharing a room at the tavern, and despite Ianto's insistence that the Doctor sleep in the middle, a passed-out-and-drooling Jack was poured out on top of him, where he proceeded to paw at Ianto in an undignified way throughout the night. With the Doctor snoring on one side (unchivalrously choosing to be a one remove from the intoxicated Jack), and Jack breathing fumes on his face on the other, Ianto found it difficult to sleep._

And so he made plans instead.

 **I Never Understood Before I Never Knew What Love Was For; or, in the morning**

In the morning Ianto woke up to find that he had slept after all. There were warm bodies pressed up against him on both sides, and if not for the hangover and Jack's foul breath against his cheek, it could have been quite pleasant. Pleasant in theory, at least.

 _…Jack's teeth on his earlobe, the Doctor smiling against his neck, and clever cold fingers worming their way under his pyjamas, making him perversely hot and breathless…_

He'd never had a threesome before joining the TARDIS. Never wanted to, really – there was always the thought that if you loved someone enough you wouldn't want anyone else, and hadn't he loved someone like that? With Jack it was different, and not just because he didn't think of sex that way. Ianto figured Jack had been shagging the Doctor long before he came along, had been shagging that Martha girl and the Doctor for a while, and would have continued shagging the Doctor regardless of whether Ianto joined in.

And the Doctor, well, he was charming, in a very different way to Jack but no less so. Interesting, and you could tell he didn't have sex casually, easily, you could tell that it meant something when he did. And the invitation had come from them both.

 _…they were almost competing, enthusiasm and stamina and endless desire between them, finding out ways to make him moan and shudder and beg. Neither would give up control, but they always made sure Ianto did, turning him into a mass of pliant and greedy flesh, and even then they wouldn't stop touching him…_

The familiarity that came with it, though, wasn't intimate in a way he found comfortable. Not that intimacy was ever comfortable, really, but when there were reasons for that kind of intimacy, good reasons.

There were good reasons why this wasn't a good idea.

 **Well Do You Do You Do You Wanna; or, setting up the bet**

After a breakfast of dried figs and some more wine ("Is everybody an alcoholic here?"), they began to tour the city. Jack didn't speak. Ianto didn't speak. The Doctor spoke a lot, on purpose.

"…and then, of course, he'd say _is that what you were hiding under your skirts_ , and are you two really going to keep this up all day? We're in Athens! This is the most exciting city in the planet right now, and we're in the middle of it! How can you still be squabbling like children?"

There was only one thing, Ianto felt, that one could say to that. "He started it."

"Oh for heaven's sake! Right, you two. I've had enough of this bickering."

"But we haven't said a word!"

"That doesn't make it any less loud! Now, we're going to go back to the Gymnasion, and you're going to wrestle it out. That'll be your chance to get it out of your system, release the aggression, release the tension, stop poking each other behind my back, and hopefully behave something like adults at the end of it. Are we clear?"

"Well, technically, we haven't been poking…"

"Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, you meddling idiot. But if you think that's going to sort it out…"

"Jack."

"What?"

"Shut up."

And that was that. Except that Ianto had an idea, and he poked Jack in the ribs behind the Doctor's back.

"How about a bet to make it more interesting?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"The winner gets to pick a favour of choice. Anything he asks, the other will deliver."

"Anything? You're on. And when we're done you won't be able to walk for a month."

"Oh Jack. Always so predictable."

"Oh yeah?" Jack stopped walking, and stepped closer, not quite touching but near enough for Ianto to smell the wine in his breath. Jack's mouth was wet. "When we're done, you are never leaving my bed. You will never try to put someone else between us again. You're sticking with me."

There was nausea rising in Ianto's belly, but he stomped it down, took a deep breath and lifted his chin. Jack didn't really mean it, and he'd given up on Jack meaning it, anyway.

"Fine. And if I win, you're going to get me a spaceship."

 **Stubble On My Sticky Lips; or, more naked wrestling, now with added angst**

He didn't get an aleipteis this time, which was just as well, as he wouldn't have wanted any stranger to touch him now. Most places he could reach himself, and those he couldn't Jack was unlikely to reach for.

They'd cleared the fighting area for this – the Doctor had whispered something to the guardian's ear and waved the psychic paper at him, and whoosh, everything had prepared itself, complete with a disturbingly keen audience. Ianto didn't want to look at the sides too much. Bad enough that he had to look at Jack like this.

And then it began, and blimey, Jack was stronger than he looked, stronger than Ianto had realised despite months and months of studying every curve of muscle. Maybe it was just that Jack's body, beloved and known as it had been, hadn't been used against him before. It was hard to twist away rather than towards, hard to spin away from every touch of broad fingers on his back and not stay to enjoy the caress. Jack's legs pushing between his thighs was not that kind of a game this time, and there was no stopwatch to measure how long he could last. Just cold blue eyes and unerring hands, which knew all his weak spots.

Yet, this wasn't a fight he could afford to lose. And not just because he couldn't bear the idea of Jack claiming his price, and then not claiming it, not wanting it.

Ianto prepared himself to win.

Afterwards, when the crowd was rushing him once more and the Doctor was picking Jack up from the ground, bruised on his arms and sides and legs, Ianto considered the idea that there was no such thing as victory.

 **I Wish Today Was Just Like Every Other Day; or, some more argument**

 _In which the Doctor argued that time-travelling was not for tourists, and that being a guest on the TARDIS wasn't the same as on-the-job training. Ianto countered this with his research catalogue from the TARDIS library, and pointed out that he had been asking questions about it these last three months and that he would be happy to submit to an examination on it if the Doctor thought it fit. At this juncture, Jack made several loud complaints, which mostly suggested that if there were to be any examination of Ianto, he should be the one doing the examining, but both Ianto and the Doctor ignored him._

Ianto also asked whether the Doctor had any right to forbid him from going, which started a whole new discussion about responsibility and hospitality and the laying of obligations, and respect and intimacy, and ended with Ianto shouting: "But you don't actually want me here!" After which everybody became quiet and stared at their shoes.

In the end it was decided that Jack would acquire a Time-travelling ship for Ianto, something similar to the one he'd had when he first met the Doctor. He wasn't happy about it, and neither was the Doctor. Ianto, on the other hand, was glowing. This started another unfortunate conversation about male pregnancy, and Ianto and the Doctor agreed on a temporary truce while they barricaded themselves in the library, away from Jack's disturbingly detailed reminiscences.

 **My Body's Tired of Travelling And My Heart Don't Wish To Roam; or, The End**

Ianto loved his ship. It was small, but there was space for the coffeemaker he'd bought in Barcelona (the planet), a closet for his suits, and a liquor cabinet. Not to mention _The Time-Traveller's Guide To The Galaxy_ , which took up a whole corner by itself.

He'd been asking questions for months now, about how the Time Agency worked, what rules there were and how to avoid the nasty people. He did also have a direct line to the TARDIS on his mobile, although Ianto wasn't too keen on using it. Still, it never hurt to be prepared.

"Ahoy there, the _Janet_?"

"Didn't we agree that I would name things from now on, Jack?"

"I haven't agreed to any such thing. Anyway, it's a classy name. Suits you."

Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain Jones?"

"Permission granted, Captain Harkness."

Jack was smiling, half delight and half smugness, and it occurred to Ianto that he had spent far too much time cataloguing Jack's smiles. Another bad habit to grow out of, then.

"Have you decided where you want to go first? Space or time?"

"I was thinking New New Wales. The Doctor mentioned something about coffee plantations in Snowdonia, after the global warming. I'd quite like to see that."

"So, basically, you're going to travel thousands of years in time, on a spaceship you've blackmailed out of me, so that you can go to Cardiff and drink coffee?"

"Um, yes?"

Jack smiled. It was a new one.

"Mind if I tag along?"

 _The End_

The titles of the subchapters are from the following songs:

Do You Want To by Franz Ferdinand  
If You Wear That Velvet Dress by U2  
The Pop Singer's Fear Of The Pollen Count by The Divine Comedy  
Songs Of Love by The Divine Comedy  
Don't Look Down by The Divine Comedy  
If I'm Your Villain by Franz Ferdinand  
Our Mutual Friend by The Divine Comedy  
Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung  
Do You Want To by Franz Ferdinand  
Michael by Franz Ferdinand  
Song For Ten by Murray Gold and Neil Hannon  
Love Don't Roam by Murray Gold and Neil Hannon


End file.
